1up
by Souseiki
Summary: One-shot series. How circumstances change, allowing one individual to narrowly or outright escape Death's grasp. How one person's life, not death, can impact the people and events around them. Disjointed and unrelated AUs. (Yashamaru- It should have been me, but that doesn't mean he should have chosen you.)
1. Super Naruto Bro: Block Break

An interactive table of contents for mobile users like me.

* * *

In a pitch-black world, a lone sunny-haired boy had an uncharacteristic pinched expression on his face. Baby fat does wonders for such a cute little guy, isn't that right?

"Hey! Hey, who's there? Where am I? Why am I wearing-actually, _what_ am I wearing?"

The little boy really didn't appreciate wearing the onesie. He's a big kid now, and a onesie totally went against what he's been telling Hokage-jiji. Clenching his fists, he growled, _Man, I am so getting back at the guy who-_

All thoughts stopped as he watched himself open and close his covered hands. It was orange. And fluffy. And _so soft_.

Okay, maybe this wasn't so bad.

He didn't notice or feel the cluster of tails (nine, but who's counting?) on his rear, wagging in sync with his giddiness.

Unconsciously scratching a pointed fox ear, he looked around his surroundings and found a floating row of light tan boxes. Each depicted a large, white question mark on each face.

"Gah, I hate questions!"

He hit the first one instinctively...with his face? A giant green mushroom with white words written in random spirals dropped from the now blank box.

_1up:_ 等価交換...

"'One up. Tōka Kōkan. Equivalent Exchange. Do not translate. Surprises in each box.' Nyeh, this is boring," the impatient boy stopped reading the rest of the _vitally forthcoming dialogue_ and looked at the remaining blocks, "What's in the other ones? I do like surprises..."

He then went down the line, headbutting each block. In order, they read:

1. Uzumaki Naruto. スーパーマリオワールド. Contents.

2. Yashamaru. 等価交換. バキ.

3. Uzumaki Kushina. TBA. Certain.

4. Hatake Sakumo. TBA. Uncertain.

Reaching the end, the whiskered-face boy deflated.

"Maa. That. Was. Bor-ing."

* * *

Each one-shot might have an expanded independent story later on.


	2. Yashamaru

My first piece in years, bless all of our souls.

* * *

-((Kazekage's Office))-

He looked at his brother-in-law, really looked at him, and mentally buried his weary face into his worn gloves in frustration. Somewhere along the line, Yashamaru believes that Karura-nee's death affected the Kazekage more than the man let on. The leader of their village lost more than his wife and the mother of his children. He had lost any semblance of political footing that he had held before Gaara's birth. With the rapidly increasing reports of the boy's instability piling up on his desk, the man was running out of contingency plans.

Failure was not an option; yet it was a reality. A reality the cornered leader before him refused to believe.

Yashamaru understood Suna's economic pitfall, more than most shinobi ranked Chuunin and above. But this...this compensation measurement wouldn't solve their troubles.

"Kazekage-sama, may I speak plainly?"

The man across the desk nodded stiffly, rubbing his face gruffly with calloused hands to rouse himself from creeping exhaustion. This open yet vulnerable gesture in and of itself solidified Yashamaru's suspicions. He was _so tired_. And he didn't have time-could not afford-to rest physically, much less emotionally. But the younger shinobi persisted.

"He is five. Gaara is five. _Your son_ is five. This 'psychological evaluation' you have prepared for him, commanded for me to _administer_," the last word was stressed through sneering lips, "sets him up for failure. This type of emotional strain on someone his age would break even a low-ranking Chuunin. You think he is out of control now? His sanity will deteriorate exponentially over time with this sort of fuel. Combined with Shukaku's temptation, which only occurs as it is presently because you had too much pride to ask for a _fucking favor_ from Konoha's-"

"That is enough."

Yashamaru didn't dare to reflect on his face the fear that radiated through his body as the kage's killer intent rolled over him like a spiked wheel. Years of resentment and he couldn't keep it professional even with knowing the facts? Perhaps these long days were affecting young Yashamaru as well.

"I will consider the issues you have presented. You are dismissed."

-0-

_Consider, my ass. _

The sandy-haired man bitterly surveyed the carnage left of his Genin teammate, Baki. While the man's body itself remained intact, the vacant expression on the usually stern face was overpowered by the streaks of blood coming down from open eyes and lips. It was already dry. _I don't even want to know what type of killing blow he attempted to use with his Wind Affinity,_ Yashamaru thought ruefully as he lowered himself to Baki's level.

"It should have been me," he closed one eyelid and gave it a swift kiss, "but that doesn't mean he should have chosen you, either." The same gesture was repeated with the other before Yashamaru let himself briefly lose composure. Sitting abruptly upright, the newly-widowed allowed for his shoulders to shudder, _He knows that you're practically blood, with or without me. This is still the same test. What is Kazekage-nii's game?_

He was taken away from his thoughts by a nearby whimpering. Of course. The demonic wave of chakra was the reason he rushed out of his house. He had also sensed the Kazekage's fleeting chakra, but Yashamaru had a feeling that the coward had intentionally left the scene for his in-law to deal with.

What a twisted sense of divine retribution on his Kage's part.

The young redhead had dashes of sand covering him like a safety blanket; speckled blood mimicked the sloppy driblets of an infant's drool in some twisted metaphor. Bleary green eyes looked up at him.

"Ya-Yashamaru? Is it true? Did she really...not...Did she want-" Gaara faltered. He remembered. He just didn't want to believe. The lulling throbs of the kanji he marked himself with that night served as evidence for and against the desires he felt rising within him. _Don't you want to do as Mother wishes? Yashamaru-kun told you how much okaasan loves you, yes? Don't you want to __**KILL THESE PATHETIC-**_

"Gaara."

He felt the sand move to protect him from the tentative hand's approach before he heard the voice of the only man he can-he could-trust. His face must have displayed his thoughts because his uncle let out a a dry, brittle laugh. It contrasted with what Gaara ever knew of the man yet fit perfectly with everything Baki-oji had told him last night. He growled, tightening his hold. However, the thoughtful pause had given Yashamaru enough time to perform a Kawarimi. The cactus snapped under the sand's death grip; at the same time, the man reappeared with breakfast.

He was a true ANBU.

"We need to talk, Gaara-chan. Please, just listen and trust me."

-0-

A morning and an afternoon full of fruit pastries passed before Gaara and Yashamaru partially deconstructed the walls built last night. Yashamaru would call the liquid forming around the child's eyes "tears" if he wasn't so embittered by his own loss. However, he knew where to place the faults in the circumstances. Gaara never was the true culprit in this. _The Kazekage is,_ was left unspoken even within the privacy of his own mind. As long as he remembers this mantra born after Karura-nee's death, he can move on through any obstacle.

"And the other sand," Gaara shuddered, "It was so heavy...and suffocating. I felt like...I felt like it was swallowing me up. I hated the feeling of being caged. _**I hate it.**_"

The puffed out cheeks, dusted with paperthin pastry flakes, would have looked absolutely adorable if Shukaku's brief influence didn't give such a pronounced punctuation to the proclamation.

Yashamaru didn't forget that the Kazekage never dismissed him from his assigned mission. The date was merely postponed and marked for a later time period. Indefinitely.

That utter ponce.

Toying with the butter knife in his left hand, the sandy-haired blond took a sip of cooled tea with his right. Over the rim of the cup, he watched the sanguine-mopheaded child play with his

_bloody, soiled, tainted, thieving, goddamned_

-sand. After the last civilian incident, Gaara had taken his suggestions to heart. The junior jinchuuriki knew better than to make a copy of another person. Kankuro's bedtime stories of Akasuna no Sasori traumatized Gaara with the mere thought of controlling a person's body, regardless if they were dead or alive, real or imaginary. The boy's cherubic features were pinched with concentration, trying and failing to make a friend for his bear. Yashamaru's concentration on calculating the trajectory of his knife to the turns his target's form caused him to overlook the boy's moral capacity (stronger than his father's) and chakra control (stronger than his own at that age).

_There,_ Yashamaru found his opening. The boy's back was turned, his sand successfully making a larger version of his now encased bear.

Time slowed as he brushed his thumb over the seal on the butter knife's handle. The poisoned pastry spread affected neither male because of the ANBU's iryō-nin training and the other's jinchuuriki status. A Multiple Shadow Clone jutsu on the blade would change that though.

Before his thumb could graze the last two characters on the handle, part of the bear dissolved and darted towards the two.

"Oh no, Kuma-Nigo! Come back! No, not to me! To the rest of you!"

_Shit, I lost...I lost...Karura-nee?_

Ignoring the other's panicked flails, Yashamaru could only gape at the sand formation before him. While it appeared to wrap around the target haphazardly, it resembled Karura-nee's form from Yashamaru's perspective.

_That damned Shukaku! Too far, you have gone too far!_ He brushed his thumb angrily over the next character before Karura's sand copy grasped his wrist with her left hand while still hugging Gaara protectively with her other arm. Unlike this morning's grip, this one was gentle yet firm.

_"Shama-chan," Karura-nee chided as she pried the six-year-old's stubborn digits from the opened medic pack. She huffed, a stern expression crossing her round face. She looked more like the kaachan in his fading memories. This hurt more than her actual hold on his hand. _

_"But I want to help-"_

_"You know better than to go through there without permission!" her face softened; and her eyes expressed disappointment, grief, and understanding all at once. _

_Just like they were now._ Sand Karura-nee shook her head as she slowly let go of his hand, after grinding the knife into dust. Yashamaru, startled, upset his teacup as he continued to watch his sister. Pressing her index finger onto her lips, she mouthed, _I am sorry._ The rest of her body dissolved but not before her face could convey that weary half-smirk she always wore whenever she ushered his away from his kitchen table, swamped with medical reports and mission scrolls. Despite being a civilian, she understood his duty to the village and admired his dedication.

_"But that doesn't mean I'm going to let you or the village break a perfectly good shinobi," she muttered as she hauled his deadweight onto the nearest lumpy couch. Before sleep overwhelmed him, he saw a fading image of Karura-nee's eyes lighting up with stubborn determination and a purpose to protect. _

_She's protecting the boy, the target! She's protecting...! She's protecting _her son_. She's protecting _Gaara_. My nephew..._

Surprisingly, the smashed tea cup and its contents did not startle Yashamaru from his haunted memories. Instead, it was his nephew that shook him from the shock.

"Yashamaru! Yashamaru!" Gaara wailed as he looked at the broken tea cup in worry.

_Huh, I actually never witnessed someone cry over spilled tea before,_ Yashamaru mused before he realized what Gaara was fussing over. The tea cup pieces were not only scattered on the table but embedded in his arms as well.

Embedded seemed like a stretch, but with the way Gaara was reacting, that's how it felt. Speaking of which, the redhead was rummaging through the medic pack his uncle had set down earlier.

_Bandages, bandages, where are the bandages?_ Gaara frantically shuffled through the various white objects in the pack that were most certainly not bandages-

Two hands stalled his frantic excavation. Sand did not stop them. Slowly, he looked up at his uncle, "Yashamaru...?"

Said man smiled, though it held a lot more weight than usual. "I'm sorry, Gaara," _for everything that you've endured,_ "for worrying you. Today's been a long day. Uncle Yashamaru will fix himself up."

"I want to help, too!" Gaara smiled. And for a moment, Yashamaru could hear his own declaration decades ago, blending with Gaara's.

And Yashamaru smiled, unaware that he wore the same smile as his Karura-nee's.

-0-

"So, the target passed?"

"Yes, Kazekage-sama."

"Minimal casualties?"

A pause.

"Affirmative."

A gruff cough. _I'm sorry. _

"Arrage a follow-up. Turn in the rest of the report by the end of this month. You are dismissed, ANBU-san."

-((Temari's Academy Graduation Ceremony))-

"Na na, I'm gonna kick some ass. I got several ryō in my po-cket, na na," the newly minted Genin sang, "Hunting for a mission, killing all those low-life, scardy-cat nu~ke~nin~!"

Yashamaru gave a wry laugh, "I expected that from Kankkun, not someone of your maturity."

Temari gave her uncle the haughtiest expression she could muster without crossing into disrespectful territory, "Did you see what I was competing with in that class? I'm actually ashamed of being called the rookie of the year." She put one hand on her hip and let the other make a sweeping gesture towards the crowds of children with their own guardians. "Wimps, I'm telling you."

As the acting medic during the Exam's ninjutsu portion, Yashamaru was inclined to agree. However, because of his earlier report, the Kazekage was fixing this problem as they spoke. It wasn't as if Temari was fazed by the lack of her father's presence.

On the contrary, she was positively glowing. It wasn't as if she was scared of her father's judgement or even distrustful of his inconsistent involvement in her life. She was just that glad to be out of the classroom. Her father's busy schedule be damned, she was going to enjoy herself.

During the celebratory ice cream party in Yashamaru's apartment, Gaara finally spoke. He had given his congratulations alongside Kankuro-nii but had held a pensive expression on his face ever since his older sister's tirade. "Temari-nee, I thought that they placed the lowest ranking Genin with the Rookie and a compatible twenty-fifth percentile Genin."

Temari paused, in mid-scoop, "Balls. That's what the Konoha-nin do. Just because we have a treaty with them doesn't mean we copy every single pansy-assed custom."

Kankuro snorted and shoveled more rainbow-sprinkled whipped cream into his mouth, "I appreciate the fact that you're channeling me, but you know how Yasha-jiji is about that kind of stuff. I figured we can cut him some slack considering this is some damn good ice cream, jaan."

When his sister's face didn't lose the stern yet haunted expression, Kankuro attempted to sooth her worries. "We'll talk about it with Kazekage-jiji during dinner or something. This isn't some nepotism or shit," he patted his sister's arm with his spoon-free hand and quickly retracted it in preparation for retreat, "This is preserving the lives of your would be homicide victi-what the hell, Temari?! That shit is coldcold_cold_! You're wasting Yasha-jiji's victory stash!"

While his older siblings bickered, complete with catapulting cold confections, Gaara sensed around the apartment for his uncle.

-0-

Alone in his bedroom, Yashamaru knelt before the only godawful piece of furniture that Baki had ever convinced him of buying.

The mahogany cabinet was open, revealing a shrine complete with unlit candles, tall incense, and three pocket-sized silver frames. The first depicted a young woman with gloved fists on both hips and a familiar medic pack snug around her waist. Her hair was held up in four ponytails and framed a mischievous smirk shared by her eldest grandson. The second picture displayed another female with similar physical characteristics. However, her posture lacked her mother's steely stance forged from years in the shinobi work force. Nevertheless, it held the same gentle reproach Yashamaru had seen three years ago in her sand form. If he remembered correctly, he was putting bunny ears on her husband while the other man took her picture. The third picture contained not one but four individuals. A stern woman, with a large scroll on her back, separated the two young boys trying their damnedest to maim the other. Meanwhile, Pakura was trying her damnedest to scorch a hole through the camera from her position in the off-left of the portrait without her kekkei genkai.

_"Get off me, you rōnin reject!"_

_"Not until you apologize to sensei-sama!"_

_"Laying it a bit thick, aren't you? I don't see how baachan over here is going to help me at all!"_

_"Yashamaru-san...Baki-san..."_

_"She's a war hero! Respect that at least!"_

_"I'll respect the hag when she justifies how her pansy-ass skill set helps me with my kenjutsu!"_

_"Boys..."_

_"It isn't all about you, you know."_

_"No one cares, bedpan changer."_

_This started yet another scuffle. By now, the older woman had let them go. She held them still long enough for the photographer-nin to get a decent shot at their faces. Now, she had her arms crossed and stood beside the other female on the team. A quick upwards tug of the corner of her lip was the only indication that she approved of the girl's next actions. _

_"Children!" Pakura seethed her third and final warning, absorbing the moisture from the land around her. Dry sand cackled, suddenly resembling the color of the boys' terrified and paled expressions. _

_"Look," the orange tips of her hair swayed as she marched to their stunned bodies, "I don't give a damn that you're a spineless medixchange or that you're a vulgar hothead." She emphasized the first epithet with a jab of hot air dangerously close to the former's jugular and the second label with a swift wave of heat grazing the side of the latter's face before continuing. "And you better not give a damn about my own attitude. However," she paused, stopping a hairs-width from their faces, "If your inability to get over our petty differences gets us or another comrade killed, I will _obliterate _you, dead or alive."_

_"..."_

_"Was that clear enough? Or do you need an example?"_

_"No, Pakura-san. That's alright."_

_"Crystal, Pakkun."_

Yashamaru shook his head. After Pakura-san's death, they all stole away a bit of her personality with them. Sensei, her fierce dedication to the village. Baki, her gruff and no-nonsense front. _And me, her bitter opinions towards the Kazekage. _

The corners of his own mouth twitched as he lit the candles in the shrine. After paying his respects, he planned to distribute the contents of the boxes underneath the pictures. For now, he was lost in prayer.

-0-

The nine-year-old paused at the open doorway. From his position, he could see that the mahogany shrine housed copies of the pictures Yashamaru-ji carried in his off-duty wallet. Scanning the faces in the pictures, his heart leaped at his mother's and again when his eyes landed on Baki-ji's.

Through his Academy lessons, his observations of the political climate in his own household, and his own deductive reasoning, he understood what he used to experience years ago. That didn't make his ordeal any less than what it was. He mourned for all his other assassins, but he always felt uncomfortable praying before Baki-ji.

_He was so undeserving._ And even Gaara was unsure if he was referring to himself or his last assassin.

Wanting to separate himself from such heinous thoughts, Gaara moved to kneel beside his uncle. Yashamaru lifted his head, turning it towards his nephew.

"Hello, Gaara-kun. Are Temakun and Kankkun behaving themselves? Hopefully, I won't find ice cream on the ceiling this time," a genuinely warm smile spread across his face at the thought of his older niece and nephew's similarities between him and his own Karura-nee at that age.

"I'm sorry about before. I'll help clean up this time."

A shake of the head and a ruffle of hair.

"It's alright. It's not your fault. You can't control others' antics, after all."

Both males fell into silence, knowing that neither was talking about the ice cream.

-0-

Temari, to put it frankly, was nervous. Once they returned to their house, the Kazekage's children were thrown for a loop. Like Kankuro had suggested, Temari had planned to present her inquiry about her Genin team after dinner. However, once they arrived in the doorway, a Chuunin aide informed her that the Kazekage wished to speak with her in the morning.

He spoke the word _alone _with his eyes, giving her younger brothers a once-over before Shunshin-ing away.

The words "alone" and "with the Kazekage" were rarely a joyful combination.

Temari made a face, looking at the sand scattered on their front patio area, while removing her sandals. Gaara must have sensed her growing apprehension because he collected the sand to join the rest in his gourd. Even with years of reintegrating back with his family, his attempts with sincere words and actions felt awkward. That didn't stop him from trying though.

It was rather appreciated. Temari gave a shaky yet thankful smile as she walked passed him and Kankuro to her own bedroom.

She skipped both dinner and breakfast due to her nerves.

Fast-forward to the present, the eldest daughter found herself staring at the Kazekage's marble door, gradually glittering from the rising sun. She took a deep breathe to strengthen her resolve, opened the door, and walked in.

-((the night before))-

"Maa, I hope Kazekage-jiji isn't going to blame her for the council's crotchety attitude," Kankuro put his hands behind his head as he and Gaara made their way towards their shared bedroom. At Gaara's raised...well where eyebrows were supposed to be, he continued, "I mean, like, you know how they get. Chiyo-baasama and Ebizō-jiisama are pretty cool, jaan, but the stick-up-their-asses that replaced them don't know their way from the tip of a kunai to its handle."

When Gaara decided to grace him with a rather pointed look, Kankuro deemed it wise to pause their conversation until they were in the safety and privacy of their own room. As soon as Gaara used a sand jutsu to muffle their voices, his older brother continued.

"Like come on," Kankuro scoffed while changing clothes, "I know I'm not as politically astute as you or Temari, but they definitely bought their place there."

Gaara sat cross-legged on his futon and tilted his head slightly to the right.

"Thanks for the flattery, man. But honestly, if it came down to who would replace Kazekage-jiji when he croaks, it would definitely be you or Temari."

Gaara lifted the left corner of his mouth slightly and Kankuro laughed.

"Maa, Kazekage-jiji and the council don't give enough credit to us puppeteers. They still hold a slight grudge against the Gokyōdai for retiring their seats. Well, Kazekage-jiji moreso than those two ass-kissers."

Gaara nodded solemnly.

"Ehh, I'm not particularly worried about the puppet programs, jaan. We're awesome," Kankuro boasted before deflating somewhat, "Mainly because Ebizō-jiisama bothers with us. That part of the Academy definitely needs more funding."

With that point, Gaara gave his pajama-clad brother a blank stare.

"Damn, who am I kidding? Everything in general needs funding," he sighed dramatically before falling face-first onto his futon. He looked towards the futon across from him to give Gaara an even look, "Fine, I guess I see the logic on having those two bats in council."

Gaara pursed his lips and began his own nightly routine.

-0-

"Chiyo-baasama? Ebizō-jiisama?"

Temari blinked in surprise. _Well, this is unexpected,_ the blonde thought as she bowed to the two elders sitting on the tatami mat. _Kami, I hope they didn't hear the slight surprise in my voice. _

"Ohayō gozaimasu, Temari-chan," Chiyo greeted while her brother inclined his head in her direction, "Your father requested our advice in the matter of your team placement. He knows better than to pester us in our golden retirement years for something as trivial as Genin team selections. After all, you must learn how to cooperate with people you are incompatible with some time or another. There are always those pesky lynch-pin missions, and those involved are rarely Konoha-grade team players. However, the proposition your father presented before Ebizō was rather interesting. So, I decided to tag along for the fun."

Turning to her father uncertainly at this revelation, Temari saw very tired eyes. He may be young, but he was never given the proper time or training to firmly grasp his position as Yondaime Kazekage. There was only so much you can catch up on. The council may have prolonged the search for his predecessor despite the decades, but it was still expected that he handle the current issues before him. The young kunoichi shook her head and focused on the other male in the room.

Ebizō's...well where eyes were supposed to be, did not betray any feelings in regards to his sister's involvement. His mouth was another matter. Letting out a laugh, he began to explain the fate of her team assignment.

By the time the two elders finished their proposal, she fully understood their amused expressions. She didn't know whether her gratitude on not being placed with some Nanashi-dobe outweighed her grief for the overall project.

-((Temari's room))-

Kankuro couldn't stop laughing.

"Suna no sankyōdai. Project: Sand Siblings. Oh kami, we'd be like those corny superheroes posted all over the bookstore shelves, grocery aisles, and cinema screens."

"Isn't that the point, though?"

Kankuro was the only one to turn towards Gaara. Temari was still trying to drown herself in her pillows. The only indication she gave that she was still listening was the adjustment of one of the pillows closest to one of her ears.

Gaara looked at his sister with worry before continuing, "Moral boost. Propaganda. Basically, we will be _the _poster children of an ideal shinobi team. What better way to influence the declining Academy statistics than with us, the Kazekage's children?"

Temari threw a pillow across the room in realization; Kankuro caught it with chakra strings, only to bury his own face in it. His sister didn't even complain about the face paint.

They weren't bothered by being on the same embarrassingly named team. They weren't bothered with the fact that their training would be constantly monitored in a fishbowl environment. They weren't even bothered about their father retreating further from their lives and assigning their uncle as their sensei.

They were bothered with the fact that they would have to wait until Gaara was twelve to even consider taking the Chuunin Exams.

Kankuro was the first to recover, "Peacetime measures suck. Age limits this, ridiculous D-ranks that. Gaara, I swear, if you don't pass the Genin Exam on your first go, I will run off and become some sort of second Sasori."

A snort was heard from underneath the sloppy pillow fort, "It's alright, Gaara. A few extra years of D-ranks would be worth getting this idiot out of Suna."

-((a few years later))-

"Of all the jutsu he _can't_ do, it's honestly a freaking _Kawarimi?!_" Kankuro paced around the training ground, his sister's eyes following him as he demolished a line of training dummies.

"We can't all be as trigger-happy with the jutsu as you are," the blonde flicked a stray senbon back at the puppeteer, "I'm just grateful that clones aren't a problem, considering his chakra reserves. Besides, out of all the E-ranks, it's the most useful for his position." Admittedly, while an iryō-nin switching spots with an injured comrade wasn't wise, it was common. However, in this instance, the way that Gaara was (with spectacular failure) using the jutsu was hilarious. As if sensing yet another attempt, the two siblings turned to stare at the youngest training across the landscape with their uncle.

_Ram. Boar. Ox. Dog. Snake. _

Two puffs of smoke appeared in place of Gaara and one of the few remaining cacti. However, Gaara was only a few meters away from where he started; in fact, it was the midway point between that and the cactus' initial position. Said cactus was crushed by his sand near-instantaneously.

"Good job, you've managed to move from your starting position with those last few cacti," Yashamaru congratulated him with an approving nod. If the repeat performances of what happened years before bothered the blond, he hid it well. Gaara returned his uncle's gesture with one of his own before proceeding with the guaranteed demolition of the remaining training ground's flora.

-((a few weeks later))-

"Temari-nee. Kankuro-nii. I passed," Gaara smiled as he proudly displayed his headband on his outstretched hands. "The proctors ended up choosing three other E-ranks to test me on."

Kankuro stood by his brother's right side and gave the other male's left shoulder a hearty thump. To Gaara's left, Temari knocked both of them off balance with a strong hip-check. Gaara couldn't stop smiling.

It took a bit more will-power, but his sand didn't move at all.

_Being able to interact with Temari-nee and Kankuro-nii like this,_ Gaara thought, _that was what made mastering those control exercises, especially the Kawarimi, worth it. _

However, the individual that had helped him master said excercises was not present. With an expression vaguely resembling a pout, Gaara scanned the clearing. Like his two previous visits for his siblings' graduation, the Academy courtyard was filled with beaming Suna-nin and the occasional civilian parent. While there were a multitude of males, sandy-haired blonds, and medics, none fitted all three descriptors. Deflating a bit, Gaara now understood why Temari and Kankuro were in such high spirits.

D-ranks aside, Kankuro knew Gaara held Yasha-jiji in a similar regard that he himself held Chiyo-baasama. Although she could have used the excuse of living on the outskirts of the village, the retired elder had greeted Kankuro at the end of his own Genin Graduation with Ebizō-jiisama and a few worn storage scrolls.

After steadying himself along with the redhead beside him, Kankuro ruffled the shorter boy's hair in silent assurance. Outloud, he turned to Temari and smirked, "Race you to Shishirō's Parlor! Last one there buys everyone's ice cream and mochi!"

And with that, the puppeteer demonstrated a flawless Kawarimi with a tagalong.

Temari lightly glared at the twin cacti before her. _I hope whatever business is keeping Oji-sensei doesn't take too long,_ pausing at the first seal of her own Body Replacement, _Or too much out of him. _

-0-

"Thank you for your reports, ANBU-san. I will instruct one of the Chuunin to collect the rest later this month." A nod of the head.

_I am sorry for taking your time. _

"I will start on the preliminary forms tomorrow. If any new information appears, I can notify you during dinner." A bow to the waist.

_You are still an asshole. _

The Kazekage waved a hand dismissively as his brother-in-law rose and turned towards the doorway, "Tomorrow will be alright. I have some delegates to entertain tonight."

Yashamaru continued walking and shrugged, nonpulsed. _Forgein diplomacy can't wait, I suppose. Still, bad luck that it was the day of Gaara's Genin Graduation. And they were starting to bond...well, kind of._ The blond ANBU smiled mirthlessly as he passed the Otokage and his entourage in the waiting area, _Like I'm one to talk about luck and punctuality. I hope those three haven't eaten victory mochi without their oji-sensei._

* * *

Unbeta'd because having it sit on gDrive made me antsy.


End file.
